


To Have and to Hold

by medi



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medi/pseuds/medi
Summary: Siegfried and Percival have an unsteady on-and-off relationship, one Siegfried finally decided to cut off for good over his own perceived inability to commit to it. To him, all he's done over the course of their time together is hurt Percival's feelings.One day many years later, he finds himself at the front door of Percival's home in Wales despite knowing that, if he stays, he's only going to leave again.
Relationships: Percival/Siegfried (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	To Have and to Hold

**Author's Note:**

> What is a man? A miserable little pile of SiegPerci.  
> (Also welcome to my new trend of naming my fics after Depeche Mode songs.)

Ten years. Some ten years had passed since that journey they all took together. Maybe eleven. The days got hard to count when you spent most of your time alone.

Still, Siegfried was here, not knowing where he'd been taking himself until he was too far along to stop. As always, the high, pretty walls of a fine Wales estate didn't seem welcoming to a vagabond like him. He knocked anyway. He'd lived most of his life being defiant.

He expected a servant, not the lord of the household, to respond to him.

"Siegfried?"

"Oh. Hello."

Percival had grown his hair out, long, down to his waist, like his brother's. There wasn't much of a resemblance anymore; King Aglovale kept his hair short now. But it looked nice this way, loosely braided with a red ribbon that matched its flare.

As if he had any right to admire Percival's beauty. Every time they came together it lasted a little while and then they split up again. They played this game with each other for years. Siegfried suspected himself as the problem, some fear he couldn't identify, because what else was there? Their relationships never ended in angry shouting matches or bruised fists and teary eyes. There was nothing _wrong_ with them, nothing keeping them apart. It only hurt both of them to keep doing this. So Siegfried kept his distance, as did Percival. Lancelot and Vane married nine years ago; people must have expected they would do the same, as there was some general confusion when they didn't. They stopped visits, because that made it worse. Siegfried resumed his wandering while Percival settled in Wales and worked closely with his brother. Letters were occasionally sent back and forth, but they never met face-to-face. Today was the first time in however many years.

"Come in and sit. I can have tea made for us if you'd like." Percival did not make requests: he gave orders. That hadn't changed about him.

"That would be nice. Thank you."

He followed Percival to a parlour set in front of a giant window that stretched to the ceiling, where they waited in silence until their tea was brought. There was no town beyond the window, just hills and vineyards, yet Siegfried disliked the exposure. All it was good for was lighting up Percival's hair, setting a wreath of flame around the crown of his head.

Percival held his cup and saucer with a light, delicate grip. "What made you decide to visit me, finally?"

"I don't know. You sound like you were waiting for me."

"I was. And I'm not about to let you go, either. You're spending the night here."

"I can't, Percival."

The cup and saucer clinked down on the side table, and slender fingers curled around his wrist.

"Stay."

Siegfried grumbled, staring off in the opposite direction. "You know what happens when I do that."

"Fine. Let it happen."

Two fingers cupped his chin and turned his head to look at Percival standing over him. When had he gotten up?

Percival tucked a strand of red hair behind his ear. They kissed, years of memories resurfacing between their lips. Percival climbed into Siegfried's lap and leaned into it, Siegfried tilting his head up to meet him. His curls became entwined with Percival's fingers.

"Your hair is long again." he noted, leaning his forehead against Siegfried's so that his lips remained close.

"I prefer it that way." He kept it halfway tied up in a messy bun to keep it out of his eyes and mouth. "It's too hard to cut."

"Let me cut it, then."

"Hm."

"I like to cut your hair."

"It's true you didn't complain last time you cut it..."

"Because I enjoy it. You'll let me?"

"... Yes. It's nice. When you do it."

He could never cut it himself. His clumsy hands made an ugly imitation of Percival's work. It was blasphemous.

They took to a small sitting room where the cut strands would be easy to clean, and Percival worked comb and scissors through Siegfried's hair. Many years ago he used to grouse about it every time he picked up his tools, though Siegfried was perfectly content to let his tangle of unruly hair grow out into an even bigger mess. He never asked for it, but Percival insisted, and Siegfried would sit on a stool in his room all calm smiles while Percival told him his hair was a disaster. Now Percival went about his work humming a tune that Siegfried recognized as an old Welsh folk song. The last time he'd heard it the Grandcypher crew had all been very, very drunk.

"You don't keep servants?" he asked, remembering Percival saying he'd clean up the clippings himself.

"A minimal amount," Percival said. "When I first moved here, there were none."

Likely at Aglovale's insistence, Siegfried thought. Teaching his little brother some belated responsibility.

"I became so used to doing things myself, when my brother offered them to me I didn't want them. Still, there are a few, but they don't stay long. They're paid for a full day's work anyhow."

His own decision, or Aglovale's? Hard to say, as their altruistic policies were becoming harder to tell apart. Even this wasn't a brag, just Percival making an offhand mention because he'd thought of it.

They made comfortable small talk until Siegfried's head was much lighter and the ends of his hair met his chin. Together they cleaned up the clippings and Siegfried informed Percival of how Lancelot and Vane were doing since, as it happened, he had more opportunity to visit them than Percival, at least informally.

Their afternoon and evening went on like this. After nightfall, Siegfried bathed and left the bathroom in only a towel, for some reason not seeing much point in dressing before he stepped out into Percival's bedroom. Coincidentally, Percival seemed to have the same idea, dressed in his thin silk robe and nothing else. The covers of his bed were pushed aside, welcoming a second guest. Siegfried let the towel slip from his waist, eager to accept Percival's invitation by crawling on top of him.

"What did I say?" Siegfried teased. "This always happens."

Percival smiled at his playfulness. "And I said to let it, didn't I? Come here, Siegfried. I missed you."

They were gentle and quiet with each other, savouring all they'd missed, taking the time to relearn and treasure the bodies they once knew so well. Whenever Percival wanted to say something, his breath tickled Siegfried's ear in a whisper, and his sweet words and breathy moans were all Siegfried could have asked for. In wan candlelight they refused to let go of each other, to separate for even a moment, and Percival smiled so much, more than Siegfried had ever seen from him. Smiles and laughter mixing together with all his pleasured cries for a sensation that heaven itself couldn't have given Siegfried. He felt dizzy, he felt drunk, like that night on the Grandcypher, he felt so much at once but he wouldn't give that euphoric feeling up for anything.

He wouldn't give Percival up for anything.

 _"I missed you."_ he'd said. _I missed you. I love you. Don't let go, Siegfried, please, don't stop, just a little more, Siegfried, Siegfried, Siegfried..._

Each word part of a chant, a chorus, a hymn beckoning him back to a home he'd strayed away from. Percival held his hand, gripped it tight, and he knew. He knew he couldn't forget this. It couldn't be locked away with everything else, all these thoughts and feelings and memories of the gorgeous prince of Wales, who lit a flame in his heart that he could never stamp out no matter how hard he tried. These things wouldn't be ignored or forgotten, even were he to die trying to escape them, they would stay with him into the afterlife.

At sunrise, he awoke holding Percival's hand. He rose and it occurred to him he had overstayed his welcome. Time to go. The same as last time. The same as always.

No part of him wanted to leave. No part of him ever really _wanted_ to, but it was necessary.

... Was it?

Siegfried had a wanderer's heart, one that never settled in one place for long, but it didn't want to leave here. It had nothing to do with the place. It had everything to do with the person. The person Siegfried had forced it to leave behind for so long, thinking he couldn't trust his own foolish feelings. He would only disappoint.

But he couldn't think that anymore, not when all of yesterday was proof to the contrary. The only disappointment he brought was when he left.

"Siegfried." Percival was awake, speaking to him. "Are you leaving?"

His hold on Siegfried's hand loosened. He would let him go, again, if he absolutely had to. His noble heart would never allow him to do anything against Siegfried's wishes, even if that action would break it to pieces. Siegfried knew that. Too well. One of many things about Percival he fell in love with.

Love. He loved him. He wanted to spend every hour of every day by his side as his knight, his husband, his everything. Even when Percival's lustrous red hair started to turn grey and Siegfried's own didn't. Even as he was aging handsomely and Siegfried still looked as young as the day he drank the dragon's blood. Even as he lay on his deathbed and Siegfried held his hand knowing he had hundreds, maybe thousands of years ahead of him without his beloved, he would remain at Percival's side. This man, Prince Percival of Wales, would be in his heart, no matter what.

"No," he answered at least, laying down to face Percival with a smile. "I'm staying."

Today. Tomorrow. Always. Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> 🌽 🧀


End file.
